9 votes, rating 6
What the Great Gobbo needed now was someone stupid enough to test his medicine. Fortunately he was surrounded by people over-qualified for the job. ‘Wot bowt Doc Eadcase?’ thought the Great Gobbo to himself, ‘Ee iz definatly krazy enuf ter do it, problem iz ee iz so krazy ow will I tell wot der effektz arr?’ The Great Gobbo mentally scratched that name of his list. ‘Mebbe Nige?’ He looked over at where his pet squig was lying in her basket on her back, toungue out and snoring loudly. ‘No way, not likkle Nige.’ His reverie was interrupted by a knocking on the front door. ‘If itz dem bluddy Clawpomberz preechin bowt dere stoopid box agen den I iz gunna fump em’ muttered the Great Gobbo as he marched out to the front door and threw it open.
‘Errr ello’ said a worried looking Goblin.
‘Wot der yew want, I iz busy’ yelled the Great Gobbo.
‘Err I wantz ter join der Green Tide….mebbe….if,err, datz acceptable?’
Before the Great Gobbo invited the little Gobbo to go forth and procreate he had a candle moment (similar to a lightbulb moment, only dimmer). ‘Why doant we diskuss it ovva a drink? I wuz juzt gunna go owtside fer a koktail, fancy wun?’
‘Err, yes,I fink’ said the little Goblin as the Great Gobbo thrust a mug of blue liquid into his hands, ‘wotzit kalled?’
‘Test drink numba wun,err,no I meen,err, Blu Lagoon? Yeh, Blu Lagoon’
The little Goblin necked his drink and the Great Gobbo stepped back to watch the result. It was worth watching. The little Goblin yelled 'Oweeeee!' and his whole body shot up whoosh into the air. It was exactly as though someone had pushed an electric wire through the underneath of his chair and switched on the current. Up he went like a jack-in-the-box . . . and he didn't come down . . . he stayed there . . . suspended in mid air . . . about two feet up . . . still in a sitting position . . . but rigid now . . . frozen . . . quivering . . . the eyes bulging . . .
'Iz summat rong mate?' The Great Gobbo asked politely.
The little Goblin blinked three times then exploded. The blast was tremendous and knocked the Great Gobbo off his feet. He picked himself off the ground, wiping bit of Goblin off himself, as another Goblin crawled out from under a bush where he was having a nice snooze. It was Dagg Ratsmasha of the Green Tide.
‘Wot der bluddy ell woz dat boss?’ said the dazed Gobbo
‘Nevva yew mind, actually Dagg do uz a favour? Nip ovva ter Honest Johnz an get uz az much Pepto Bismol Pills an az much antacid az ee az gottit?’
‘Pepto Bismol pills, PBP’s an az much antacid a zee az, now zog off’. As Dagg disappeared down the road the Great Gobbo rubbed his hands. ‘Dat shud do it’ he thought, ‘probly juzt a bit o gaz, but wiv dese new ingredientz it shud be fine’.
It was about an hour later when Dagg returned to the Great Gobbo’s cave and looking very pleased with himself placed a glass bottle with some kind of liquid in it and a bag of white powder down on the table.
‘Wotz dis?’ asked the Great Gobbo swirling the liquid in its bottle.
‘Antacid boss, Honest John sed it woz kalled formic summat an if yew want moar ter let im no early so ee kan go an katch moar antz……….’ The look on the Great Gobbo’s face was hard to read, but the small part of the brain that detects danger was already packing it’s suitcase and heading for the exit of Dagg’s head.
‘An dis?’ said the Great Gobbo quietly holding up the bag of white powder
‘Datz der PCP yew ordered’
‘Yeh, John said ter be kareful wiv dis stuff az itz well strong’
‘I wanted PBP’s’ the Great Gobbo’s voice was barely a whisper. A small pink squidgy thing carrying a suitcase scuttled across the floor of the cave, opened the front door and fled.
‘Fancy sum grog?’ he said cheerfully as he added his new ingredients to the cauldron and gave it a stir.
‘Ah, cheers boss’ said Dagg as he greedily took the proffered mug and necked the contents. Both the Great Gobbo and Nigel were staring at him and backing away.
'Kall der fire brigade!' Dagg shouted suddenly. 'Me gutz on fire!'
'It's juzt der grogg yew wuss,' The Great Gobbo said. 'Itz gud strong stuff.'
'Fire!' the Dagg yelled. 'Fire in der basement! Get a buket! Man der oses! Do summat kwick!'
'Kewl it, Dagg,' the Great Gobbo said. But he got a bit of a shock when he saw the smoke coming out of Daggs mouth and out of his nostrils. Clouds of black smoke were coming out of his nose and blowing around the room.
'Zoggin ell, yew really arr on fire,' the Great Gobbo said.
'Of korse Im on fire!' Dagg yelled. 'I'll be burned ter a krisp! I'll be fried ter a frizzle! I'll be boiled like a beetyroot!' The Great Gobbo ran outside and came back with a bucket of water.
'Open yer gob!' he cried. He could hardly see Dagg for the smoke, but he managed to pour half a bucket down his throat. A sizzling sound, the kind you get if you hold a hot frying-pan under a cold tap, came up from deep down in Dagg's stomach. The stupid Goblin bucked and shied and snorted. He gasped and gurgled. Spouts of water came shooting out of him. And the smoke cleared away. 'Fire's owt,' The Great Gobbo announced smugly. 'Yewll be all rite now, mush.'
'All rite?' Dagg yelled. 'Oo iz all rite? Dere iz jacky-jumperz in me tummy! Dere iz squigglerz in me belly! Dere iz bangerz in me bum!'
What happened next is not for print as it involves new underpants, two trips to buy more SLOP AND GLOW, shame and an instant supply of fertilizer for the garden.
‘Rite’ said the Great Gobbo ‘I iz goin ter Albion fer a few dayz ter drink sum Gwiness, yew ad betta av all dis tidyied up befor I getz bakk on Friday or yew iz ded, gottit?’
‘I fink I broke me arse…….’
‘I SED GOTTIT?’
‘GUD. Nige let’s go’
The Great Gobbo is going on holiday to Ireland until Friday so see you next week!